His name is not important.
Neither is his face.
Only his heart,
And where it was misplaced.
I found it barely beating,
Somewhere near the gutter.
It had been kicked, trampled, and stepped on,
Obviously by his past lover.
So I simply held his close,
And easily gave him mine.

Then he did something he hadn't in a while.
Without him, his heart smiled.
It ignited a fire inside my me.
I wanted to curl up and hide.
Hide the happiness inside.
And past the monuments, and hills my pride shined.

With a slight slump and pulse.
I felt it beat.